31 Awkward Situations
by Stupidmuse hatesme
Summary: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Harry has become a little obsessed with a certain Potions Master...
1. Close Call

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #1: Close Call

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 598

It's 3 o'clock in the morning and Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, suddenly has absolutely no idea where he is.

He draws his invisibility cloak closer to him, shivering, and checks to make sure that his shoes are not showing. There isn't a lit torch on the wall for eons, so he hurries forward to the nearest dim glow. He's in the dungeons. And Harry realizes that it's probably a very bad sign that he doesn't recognize this particular section.

Patting down his pockets he curses under his breath when he doesn't feel the tell-tale lump of the Marauders map. Can he really be that stupid?

"Why the hell did I leave that back in the tower?"

He leans against the stone wall before he can think better of he, he dreads to see the slime he's sure to have smeared all over his cloak in the morning, and slides to the floor miserably. Water drips and echoes through the corridors and the lonesome torch on the opposite wall sputters and flickers.

"Oh quiet, you."

Knees pulled up to his chest he pulls his arms out of his cloak's sleeves and to his body to wrap himself in them and shiver miserably.

"Harry Potter," He mutters. "Lost in the dungeon. Poor lad. We didn't find him for weeks! What a terrible way to die..."

Several minutes later the echoing emptiness of the dungeon has grown on him, so it takes him a moment to discern the difference between the rhythmic patter patters of dripping water and distant footsteps.

He tenses.

The steps are loud. They collide with the stone like miniature claps of thunder. And they are accompanied by irate mutterings.

"I'll show them...pranks...me....my quarters...sanctuary"

Harry's eye open wide when the voice clicks in his memory. Professor Snape!

He looks to his left, and then his right, and stifles a groan when he spots the portrait frame just above and beyond his right shoulder. "I'm doomed." He announces softly. "I've tripped his personal wards!"

"What are you doing?" Snape call out as he rounds the corner.

Then he stops, staring at the empty corridor.

"I could have sworn I could feel someone pressing against my rooms..." He mutters.

Harry does not allow himself to sigh in relief. He cannot allow himself to sigh in relief. He will not sigh in relief. But he does slide on his butt to his left, away from both the portrait and Professor Snape, until the wall drops back into an alcove. He wriggles into it and holds his breath, concentrating only on hiding his trainers and not making a single sound. He hopes he's moved far enough that he's not against Snape's wards any longer, and that Snape doesn't think to look for Harry in his cloak nearby.

Snape stands and seems to...concentrate. "The wards are fine. No one is there." He looks down the corridor and then behind him. "I passed no one, so it could not have been one of my snakes knocking, could it have?"

He strides towards Harry and then continues on. "Foolish students! Everyone knows that this area is dangerous and off limits....when I get a hold of them...." His voices fades off before his thunderous footsteps do and still Harry does not sigh. But he does relax each and every tense muscle in his body one by one.

"Good going, Potter. Good going."

Now that he knows which way is the way out, he scampers to it, his rubber soles squeaking, and hurriedly leaves the lower levels of Hogwarts.

Phew!


	2. Persistence

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #2: Persistence

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 555

(Challenged by my good friend AirKnitter. She's doing hers in the Kyou Kara Mao fandom...)

To his waning conscience's dismay, Harry Potter has made a game of toying with The Potions Master Severus Snape. Or more correctly, toying with Snape's wards.

It's a dangerous past-time, he knows. But nothing can compare with how his heart races with excitement and his pulse flutters when Snape, spitting with rage, comes looking for his supposed intruder.

Harry never enters the man's wards. Oh no. He doesn't have _that_ bad of a death wish. But he does increasingly irritating things with each and every visit. He's also not stupid enough to have a schedule of any sort. He times his advances randomly. A little prod during lunch, a full out assault while Snape is in bed at 3 a.m., a partial dismantling while Snape is on the other side of the castle.

Harry Potter greatly enjoys putting Snape on edge.

Sometime's he leaves the man be for an entire week.

The first time he did that, Snape set booby traps in the hall around his quarters. A first year Slytherin got trapped in it for 4 hours. Harry laughed for a good 20 minutes under a silencing charm nearby as he watched Snape try to explain to a livid Dumbledore while trying to get the terrified boy out. Harry heard that the sniveling brat was in the Hospital Wing for 2 days.

_Sounds like another Draco Malfoy in the making_, he thinks.

Harry has learned a lot about wards, recently. He has learned that he can tinker with a simple voice recognition ward and convince it to dump water on whoever is keyed to it when they say their password. He hasn't yet convinced it to lock instead of unlock, but he's working on it. Harry has also charmed the portrait into moving randomly whenever Snape steps in front of it. This tricky piece of magic paid off when he witnessed a snarling Snape flapping after his entrance for a good half an hour. Salazar Slythering thinks it's good fun, and repeatedly tells Snape that he does not have any idea who the ward tinkerer is. Well, he actually says that he hasn't _seen_ the ward tinkerer. Which is correct. Harry only speaks to him from under his Father's invisibility cloak.

He and Slytherin get along quite well, actually.

But after a good two months of fun and games, it's November, and Harry finds himself getting restless. He's provoked Snape. He's seen him angry. He sees him in class. But he feels like he's missing something. Like the greasy bat of a man is playing a part, reacting how others expect him to act.

When he catches Snape peering in fascination at a particularly fancy bit of spellwork that Harry cast over Snapes quarters that would suck Snape into a vortex that would deposit him in the Great Hall he finds that he catches a deeper look into Snape's personality.

And he is intrigued.

Harry has never seen Snape look so thoughtful, so grudgingly respectful. He's never seen his long, slender fingers tap against his chin in deep concentration as his wand twirls gracefully in his other hand.

He's fascinated by Snape. He wants to see more real reactions.

It is then that he realized that he doesn't neccessarily want to piss Snape off anymore. It is then that he realizes....

He is _screwed._


	3. Daring

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #3: Daring

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: *coughs and looks other way* 1,279......

* * *

Professor Snape has officially caught Harry Potter's attention.

Which is probably a dangerous thing, now that he thinks about it.

He's come to realize that the Potions Master has quite a multitude of masks. His personal favorite is the simmering rage he shows Harry when he accosts him in study hall, or in the corridors after curfew. Which doesn't happen as often as it used to, admittedly.

Actually, it doesn't happen anymore at all.

Harry is no longer satisfied with only tampering with Snape's rooms, and considering that Snape finally convinced Dumbledore that someone was truly harassing him Harry decided that it was time to skedaddle before he got caught in a truly brilliant trap created by the powerful headmaster.

Now he just observes.

This is not as simple as it sounds, actually. Harry does things in class to see how the teacher will react, and catalogs each and every reaction he manages to provoke. Sometimes it's just a sneer at Malfoy, other times he explodes a cauldron, or chats with Ron. He has a list that he's placed so many concealment charms on he has to squint to read the diary he uses just for this purpose: Snape Watching.

One thing doesn't sit right with Harry, though. He thinks often over the first time he, accidentally, brushed against Snape's personal wards and wonders at an incongruity he never thought of before: When Snape advanced on his supposed intruder, his footsteps echoed loudly. But any other time he's surprised Harry after curfew with or without his invisibility cloak he was as silent as a ghost.

So Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived To Be Stupid, ups the ante and _follows_ Snape.

This is a pretty dangerous past time for numerous reasons.

Reason number 1: Snape has the unfortunate ability to sense when Harry is nearby under his cloak.

Reason number 2: Harry has never been the _greatest_ at sneaking and stone floors are not the most conducive things for walking silently.

Reason number 3: Snape is a spy. Enough said.

Needless to say, Hermione is so ecstatic at Harry's new interest in the library that she doesn't even ask what he is studying. Which is a gift horse he chooses not to examine too closely.

Task number one is to find out how Snape knows Harry is there. He is well aware that this is probably not a tangible ability, but he scours the shelves regardless. Finally, after a few days of frustrated searching, he snaps and asks the pinch-faced Ms. Pince about how one could sense another without a spell.

She wordlessly stabs a bony finger and he scurries in that direction.

Auras.

Hm. That's interesting.

So Harry looks up a way to...dim his a bit. In his fervor he finds all sorts of interesting things in this topic and even scribbles in his diary all the books he found useful, pertinent spells, and fascinating information. A revealing spell shows that he has a lot more power than he thought he did, so he sidetracks a bit into another section to see if he can feel this power more intimately. His attempt at meditation fails miserably, but he resolves to figure out how to tap into his raw power at another time.

Next he looks up neat spells for skulking. Like ones that encourage grace with one's movements, or to muffle his footsteps. He even finds one to calm his breathing so that he doesn't give himself away with excited puffing as he follows his quarry.

Dimly, he thinks that he should probably feel bad for thinking of a professor as his quarry, especially since the Professor has done nothing to him all year, but he pushes that thought back when he realizes that he's painted himself into a corner.

Even if his aura and power is dimmed so that Snape couldn't sense him, he has so many spells on himself that it makes Snape twitchy. He notices this right away, and after 3 days of consecutively following the teacher on his nightly rounds Harry calls a halt because all the spells are making the spy extremely paranoid.

He tamps down the guilt he feels at this and researches more.

His magic is...dazzling, he's found. He actually has to ask Hermione about it, and luckily she's so excited about his thirst for knowledge that she doesn't look too deep into it.

"Well Harry, even if your presence is concealed, from sight and senses, your magic almost...._glimmers._ Which is interest, because in theory the magic dimming spell should take care of that, but all the extra spells are like coating you with glitter. The dimmer makes it so no one can _see_ this glitter, but it's like faery dust!"

He blinks, amused, and tries not to laugh when she splutters and coughs because of the dust from a tome she flips open a little too enthusiastically.

"Faery dust?"

"Yes! Like something you can see out of the corner of your eye, but not directly. It might feel like a feeling like someone's standing right there, or goosebumps. Likely it's unique to each person who experiences this phenomenon." She snaps the books shut. "How did you come up with this interesting combination of spells?"

He leans over Hermione's shoulder and glances at the list he wrote for her to give himself a moment to think and answers carefully. "I don't think I'm going to win this war with guts and glory, Hermione."

She blinks. "Well, that's not what I meant, Harry!" She twitters. "A dimmer, a specified muffling charm, a grace charm, a soothing breathing charm, what are you doing Harry? Burgling?" Her eyes glint with good humor before she continues. "No, but why _these_ spells Harry?"

So he explains more of his research and wonders why he didn't do this in the first place. She loves it, of course, and directs him towards many more books and within a week he's satisfied enough to try again.

Snape doesn't even pause when he stalks silently by the one-eyed humped witch's statue. Neither does he notice when Harry fluidly steps around the witch and follows Snape. Now he's armed with a magic signature blocking charm instead of the dimmer, and a complicated ritual that hides the...scent of his magic. It's very specific and he suspects that it only works on Snape. The professor relies on his sense of smell the most, he realized, and worked with Hermione to block the scent of his magic. As a direct result, Snape's nose no longer twitches when he's alone with Harry.

He only hopes that Snape's talent with his aquiline feature is very much subconscious and that he doesn't notice the change.

The work was worth it. His body now knows how to follow the tall man smoothly, and without rush. He's glad of this because he'd rather not botch it all up and tread on the man's robes. Excitement bubbles in him and he takes the rare moment to observe the man without any of his masks present. He's not weary. He seems..._Alive._ Not bubbling with good humor, per se, but in tune with himself, and his surroundings. He does not rush. His steps are slow and measures and he pads along without anymore purpose than to enjoy Hogwarts.

Like Harry, he occasionally reaches out with his hand to touch the castle and feel her for a moment. Harry can't wait until he can sense magic himself, and maybe see Snape a little more clearly. Maybe _feel_ what he is doing.

His heartbeat spikes and he struggles for a moment to tamp down his excitement.

Yes, his daring was very much worth it.


	4. Intervention Or The Attempt Thereof

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #4: Intervention (Or the attempt thereof)

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 1,111 . No joke.

* * *

"Good Afternoon, Harry. How are you today?"

Somehow, the Headmaster's summons to tea have become something that Harry dreads, and the reason why is something he won't even admit to himself. But it probably has to do with the fact that the barmy old codger drives him absolutely nuts, and he's far too interfering.

"I'm fine, Headmaster. And you?"

He seats himself comfortably in the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk with as much poise as he can muster. He even carefully arranges his robes and sits in a respectful and proper manner. All without sacrificing his portrait of ease, of course. He can tell that the Headmaster can see something different in him from the way the man's eyes glitter and look him up and down appraisingly, but anything useful in his head is hidden quite carefully so he feels no fear at the shuffling in his mind the Professor perpetrates.

He stirs two lumps of sugar into his tea and sips it in true enjoyment. "It is to my understanding, Professor, that trust is better shown when one just comes out and asks."

He admires the way the Headmaster muffles his surprise, and is glad the man didn't have enough time to plot how to show it and use it to his advantage. "Of course, my dear boy, of course. You have become quite elegant recently, my dear boy. It is quite a delight to see you strolling with such poise that even young Mister Malfoy looks on with envy." He leans forward conspiratorially. "It is always a delight to see him brought down a few notches in a way that does not include violence."

Laughter peals out of Harry as he reaches for a lemon cookie and doesn't bother to stifle his grin. "I have been reading a lot of books recently," He says in answer to Dumbledore's not-a-question.

"I am glad that you quit muffling your magic, though, Harry. It was quite worrisome to not be able to feel you anymore."

Harry's hands still for a moment while reaching for his cup of tea, but the old man is looking into his eyes and does not notice. Harry's expression does not falter until he sips his tea slowly. "I realized that method was not the one I was searching for, Sir."

"Good, good." Dumbledore peers over his glasses. "Is there anything you would like to talk about, Harry?"

"No Sir. I am doing perfectly fine with my schoolwork, and my friends." He waves his hand dismissively. "And you, Headmaster?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. I would caution you, Harry." His blue eyes are stern. "That you not delve into any magic you cannot control."

Harry laughs in delighted surprise. "Do you really think I'm practicing any dark magic, Professor? Check for yourself! Here's my wand."

He reaches across the tea tray and places it in front of the stunned man. "Go ahead, check it, Headmaster."

The man does, after a moment of hesitation, and Harry almost feels a sliver of disappointment that the Headmaster does not trust him at his word. But then, he'd also be disappointed if he did. He doesn't wish to be underestimated, after all.

"What an intriguing combination, Harry." The old man passes his wand back. "May I cast a spell on you to see how you combine those?"

"Of course!" He invites, wondering what the man will make of the specified signature blocker.

"Hmm..." Dumbledore strokes his beard. "I'd have to assume that the way you are using the blocking spell not only hides your signature or the uniqueness of your magic, but the spells you have cast upon yourself as well?"

"Yes Sir." He blinks, and leaves his gaze open, friendly, and entirely innocent of anything incriminating.

"And this spell hides these things from a particular person?"

Harry sees no harm in answering this. "Yes, I needed practice, and this person is _very_ sensitive to the feel of my magic, so even with muffling spells the person was very antsy and uncomfortable."

"Did you have Miss Granger's help with this?"

"Only with the last, Sir. It stymied me because the magic muffling should've made my magic undetectable in general. But apparently the brilliance of the spells I have cast on myself shone through it."

"Yes, yes. I can see that. Do you think it's the strength of your magic, perhaps?"

"No Sir. I tried it on others and they seemed unaware at all." He peers under his lashes, "And with my original combination of spells, even _you_ didn't notice me Sir."

Dumbledore blinks. "Well, well! Good show, dear boy. You've been having a fun time with this, haven't you!" He tries to appear stern for a moment. "You do realize that I cannot condone magic cast in the corridors, and if I realized someone was doing this I'd have to take points."

Harry laughs. "I do it in the common rooms, when we're allowed to practice spells for class, Sir."

"Jolly Good, Harry! Smart young man. Have you ever though, perhaps," The Headmaster considers, "That's it's not the strength of your magic that bothers this person. That perhaps he's so familiar with it that it itches at him? That the taste of it licks at him and sets him on edge? This might prove to be a bond of some sort. Unless it's a young lady and not a he..."

Harry smiles mysteriously. "You shall never know, Headmaster. A bond, you say? But shouldn't the muffling spell have blocked the uniqueness of my magic in the first place?"

"Well, it affected your aura, and the haze of magic around you. But you could've accomplished the same thing by learning how to pull that inside you. But the magic you cast on yourself still had the taste of you, and rubbed him the wrong way because his magic was _sure_ you were not nearby."

Harry considers this. "Thank you, Headmaster. That is very helpful." He sets his teacup on the tray. "Did you need anything else?"

"Oh no." He waves dismissively. "Have a pleasant weekend, Harry."

"You two Headmaster."

It's only after he hears the gargoyle slide back with a clunk that he realizes that he was led on a merry chase and chuckles. "Well, well, Harry my boy. You _are_ maturing. You not only steered me away from what exactly you were studying, even though you assured me it was not dark, you distracted me with a purely trivial dilemma and at the same time failed to tell me what exactly you were trying to accomplish." He stands and strides to Fawke's perch to preen at his magnificent tail feathers.

"Well done indeed."


	5. Distractions

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #5: Distractions

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 823

* * *

_His Hands are probably the most graceful things I have ever seen._

Of course, Harry would probably not be thinking this if Snape was bashing the back of his head during study hall or something, but as Snape is in his element, he feels free to observe and admire.

_It's obvious that he can identify most things by touch, and he fumbles nothing. Now that, is something to be jealous of._

It's Potions, and because it's the NEWT class, there aren't many students (Just three from Gryffindor) and they are pretty much on their own the whole period because Snape takes this as his chance to do his own brewing at the front of the room. It's like Harry's own little personal fantasy being played out when he gets to see Snape in his element. The Professor writes the name of the potion they are to brew on the board, and their texts have the ingredients and the theory of how it works, and they are responsible for figuring it out on their own.

Which should take up a lot of their concentration, but to Harry's chagrin, he spends a lot of his time now watching Snape brew. His white hands flash like pale fish and deftly do whatever he wishes them too. Chopping, shredding, dropping ingredients into his cauldron, stirring. They are so flexible and beautiful that Harry often wonders to himself if he's acquired a fetish.

He looks at other hands, and none provoke the same response. He wishes he could see Cho's, for he was fond of her once upon a time, but she's already graduated. And he, rightfully, assumes that it would be rather inappropriate to ask her on a date just to inspect her hands.

"I'm sorry, Cho." He mutters into the fumes of his already ruined potion. No one else's is green and chunky after all. "I know that we've had nothing to do with each other since that miserable date where you cried and tried to suck my soul out through my face, but would you mind going on a date with me so that I can determine whether or not I have a hand fetish?"

He figures snickering would be a bad idea, so he stifles a 'cough' into the crook of his arm and stirs his point, glancing over the rim at the entrancing man. He blinks, because he is gone.

"Mis-ter _Potter_." Snape hisses into his ear. "What in the _world_ is this glop in your cauldron?"

"I'm not entirely certain, actually Sir." Harry ventures, wondering if he can surprise Snape out of his menace. "I think I sliced the mandrake roots a little too thick. What do you think Sir?"

He can feel the man stiffen at his presumption, but continues stirring without a care, as if he's in good relations with his dreaded potions Professor every day of the week.

"Add in two slices of ginger, _thins _slices Potter, and _one_ butterball. I assume that you forgot the two counterclockwise stirs as well?"

"No Sir. But I did add too much faerie dust."

Snape pauses in deliberation, and Harry can't help the spike of joy in successfully enticing Snape into what he loves long enough to distract him from his hatred of Harry.

"Add another counterclockwise stir. If it's consistency becomes smooth, add the poppy seeds until it turns lavender and then continue from there."

"Thank you, Sir."

But Snape doesn't move from his post behind him and he can feel his heart jolt into his throat. His hands shake on his knife but he slices the ginger and carefully adds it just as Snape suggested, trying to ignore the havoc Snape is wreaking on his body. For the first time he's forced to use his wandless and silent magic in a tense situation, and renews his calm breathing charm so that Snape doesn't suspect anything is wrong.

Thank goodness his signature blocker is a permanent charm, unless counteracted manually.

Snape breathes in deeply. 'The butterball, Potter."

It drops with a plop and Harry stirs once counterclockwise and then clockwise until all of the chunks are gone. Slowly he adds each of his 20 poppy seeds one by one while still gently stirring.

"Why do you need to add the seeds individually, Potter?"

"Because Poppy is very strong, and it needs to dissolve thoroughly into the potion, and slowly, if I do not want to be immediately knocked out by it's potency when I take my sleeping draught."

"Correct, Potter." Then he moves away.

Harry does not allow himself to sigh, but he cannot help but shiver when he places his finished, and only slightly off potion, onto Snape's desk and the Professor glances from his cauldron directly into Harry's glazed eyes.

"Passable, Potter. I expect you to do that on your own next time, however."

He will _never_ admit that his pants became snug at the Professor's intense gaze.

Never.


	6. Disturbed

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #6: Disturbed

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 102

AUTHORS NOTE: Sorry for the delay...No I haven't given up. Just a little busy, yeah? So standbye for some spammage as I play catch up today...:)

* * *

Hot puffs of breath moisten his skin. Sweat beads up and causes Harry to sudder. He's helpless to do anything but clutch the sheets and convulse under the intimate touches of another. His muscles seizing, he bends backwards like a bow, tension evident in every line of his body. Everything from his eyelids to his toes clench.

"Oh God," Harry gasps.

But it's a man that laughs against his neck, his broad hand cupping around Harry's neck. His strong fingers digging into Harry's hip.

"Wha-?"

And then he wakes, trapped in his twisted, sweaty sheets gasping for air.

"Well," He mutters. "Shit."


	7. Denial is Not Just a River

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #7: Denial is Not Just a River

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 110

* * *

Harry wakes. He uses the loo. Showers. Brushes his teeth. Goes to breakfast. Chatters with friends. Goes to class. Sleeps during Binn's class. He does not study the other boys under his lashes in the dorms or showers. He does not watch the girls to see who they think is most handsome. He does not peer into mirrors to see if _he_ is handsome.

He absolutely does not do any of these things.

And most of all, he absolutely does not think of who he was dreaming of. Not even a little. Nope. Harry doesn't wonder about the dexterous hands, or humored laugh, or silken hair.

Nope, not at all.


	8. The Frown

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #8: The Frown

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 219

* * *

_Now what would cause Snape to frown quite like __**that**__, _Harry wonders. It's a preoccupied type of frown. Which is worrisome. As a direct result, Harry ignores his dinner just as much as Snape does, picking aimlessly at the cheese and potatoes without truly looking at them. When his friends start to shift nervously around him he props his face on a hand to "gaze into the distance" like he's daydreaming or something.

When he's really watching the Potions Master up at the head table.

When he's worried about something, Harry notices, Snape's forehead puckers in this particular way and he stabs his dinner meat more viciously than normal. Which is saying a lot.

"Wonder what's up," Harry mutters into his palm.

"Wusthat, 'arry?" Ron asks to his right.

"Ron!" Hermione scolds. "That's disgusting!"

Successfully distracted, Ron leaves Harry to his musings. But they lead him nowhere, as Snape finally flings down his fork, snarling at the Headmaster in a distracted manner, and then stalks out of the hall.

_Should I even be wondering what is up with him? _Harry asks himself.

The little voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Hermione answers that with a resounding no.

"Oh good." He stands up. "I'll see you guys later,"

He's never tailed the Potions Master during daylight, after all.


	9. Driven

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #9: Driven

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 670

* * *

Harry slips behind a 2nd year Ravenclaw who has his nose so deep in some book that he doesn't notice Harry using him to get through the doors of the Great Hall with relatively little fuss.

Automatically slipping into the proper mindset, Harry evens out his breathing without using the spell and slows his strides into an approximation of Snape's when he's making an extra effort to be quiet.

_Not that he usually has to try that hard._

Breathing deep and slow he calms himself. He's going to follow Snape without spells or his cloak. No big deal. Harry can do this. He still has the ritual in place, so it's not like Snape will have the advantage on him or anything.

This is a level playing field.

_Except for the part where I'm the one following __**him.**_

Snape doesn't even bother containing himself as he stalks through the corridors. His robes billow and snap angrily behind him and Harry even passes a first year scurrying off, crying, with a red welt on her cheek.

_There are always casualties when Snape is upset._ Harry decides.

He always stays a corner away from Snape, and prides in his nonchalance everytime he passes another student. He nods at those he knows, and glares at the ones who start to say hello. His whole demeanor says "Don't bother me, I'm better than you."

_Guess my fame is good for something._

"Meddling fool….coot…lemon drops….drug tea…witch…"

Harry thinks it's fascinating how a spy of Snape's rank has such a habit of muttering things to thin air. It's a wonder he's made it this far. But judging how even in his distress, he pauses when Harry accidentally kicks a stone, he must be skilled enough for it not to be a weakness too terribly often.

Harry makes a split second decision and continues around the corner, although he knows Snape is waiting.

The scowl on the man's face is worth it. "Potter!" He barks. "What are you doing?"

"Professor." He nods. "I'm going to see Professor Flitwick, I have a question for him."

Startled, Snape looks around to confirm that Harry is in fact going in the right direction for that sort of business.

"Wouldn't he still be at dinner, Potter?" He asks gruffly.

Harry shakes his head. "Oh no, Sir. He left early. Earlier than you. Excuse me, please."

Suspicious, Snape's frown lines deepen. "I'll escort you, Merlin knows what you'll get up to if I don't."

Harry says nothing, but when he starts walking he keeps himself from startling when the Professor walks directly beside him. _I am not thinking about his robes. Or his scent. Why would a Spy have such a distinct smell? That's a good thing to think about Harry, spells to get rid of smells! Lessee…There are hexes, and charms….and even a couple complex transfigurations…_

He doesn't quite distract himself, though, from the austere Professor striding beside him, and has to tear his gaze away several times. Luckily they were already pretty close to Flitwick's office.

"Potter!"

"Huh?"

"For Merlin's sake," He mutters. "Do I have to do everything around here?"

He leans around Harry and the boy tries _very_ hard not to breath in the herby scent as Snape knocks on the Charms Professor's office door.

He thinks he fails.

"Harry!" The small man squeaks, then smiles at Snape. "And Severus too!" He looks over his glasses not unlike Dumbledore. "You're not in trouble, Mr. Potter, are you?"

Snape sneers. "Mr. Potter claims that he needs…Your help." He drawls cruelly.

"Yes Professor! I'm afraid that's it's a bit of an extracurricular question, though. I Don't suppose you know any charms that get rid of a smell, that's not a cleaning charm?"

The little man claps his hands delightedly. "Come in, Mr. Potter, come in! I'll be glad to give you _any_ information you need!"

Harry feels on top of the world as he smugly shuts the office door in the dour Potions Master's face.

Harry: 1

Snape: 0

HA.


	10. Reflection

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #10: Reflection

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 151

* * *

Harry lands with a whump on his four poster bed and watches the glittering dust motes in the candle lit air.

It's December, now, and he's no closer to understanding his obsession with Snape than before. And now he has to worry about Dumbledore following him around as well. And with him he can't just dampen his magic.

The old man tends to notice when he does _that._

Hermione is so buried in tomes researching spells he could use that she is thoroughly distracted. Ron is off chasing tail, some girl from Hufflepuff, Harry thinks.

So he's relatively alone.

Neville is asleep in his fourposter, breathing steadily and quietly. Seamus is playing snap with Dean on his bed.

Harry is sprawled eagle on his bed debating about whether or not he wants to close the drapes.

He'd better, he's not going to figure anything out about him and Snape.

Not tonight.


	11. The Window

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #11: The Window

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 198

AUTHORS NOTE: Thank you for all the wonderful reviews! Specially Airknitter and her infinite patience with me being...what, 9 days behind? 0.o I got an especially nice review last chapter that I will forever cherish because it was totally unexpected and very gratifying. I'm trying very hard not to let Harry digress into that silly crushing little girl or let the characters go out of character...I'm thinking we need a clash soon, though. Something with some powerful anger :) And I wouldn't mind if anyone decided to chip in an idea for themes....I've just been picking them out of a hat, really!

* * *

Rain slides down the warped glass of a window in some obscure and abandoned realm of the castle. Harry assumes that it's a place he is not supposed to be, considering it is noon on a Saturday and he hasn't seen a single soul the whole two hours he's sat on the broad ledge.

The day is gray, the corridor is gray, and nothing besides gray nothingness can be seen through the old and rippled pane he presses his forehead against. Harry can't see the forest, or the lake simply because of the rain.

But he doesn't find it depressing. It's like he and the castle he resides in is a slate being wiped clean.

He closes his eyes and rubs his nose against the glass.

Breathing quietly through his nose he's able to hear soft padding footsteps as they glide his way. Professor Snape's unique magic brushes against him and sets his skin prickling, but he doesn't move, or tense.

Deep in thought the Professor strides by Harry, who watches the Potions Master closely from under lowered eyelashes, and then the Professor simply walks by and around the next corner.

Harry keeps staring long after the Professor has left.


	12. Thunder

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #12: Thunder

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 353

AUTHORS NOTE: Well I guess Airknitter doesn't have to worry about me breaking the rules by posting ahead....:) *whispers* I'm just lucky we never made a rule about posting late....:P

* * *

Stones can't rumble, Harry tells himself. No matter how angry one is, they do not shift or anything with someone's rage. But somehow, as Professor Snape stands in front of him, bellowing, and stamps his feet, Harry feels his legs quiver from imagined tremors.

His knees feel weak and he helplessly stumbles backwards.

"What in the world were you THINKING?" Snape says loudly between panted frustration, billowing towards his shrinking student. "Didn't you _hear_ me when I told the class not to add nightshade to this potion? You could have taken Longbottom's eyes out!"

Harry scrabbles at the thick door to the Potions Master's office and looks at anything but Snape. Floating dead things in vials, the stones, moss, anything but the looming Professor standing uncomfortably close to Harry.

Snape pinches his brow and says lowly. "Not that it would have made a difference if you had taken his eyes out. It's not like he uses them."

"Yes he does, Professor." Harry says tremulously.

Incredulous, Snape pins his helpless student to the door with his unforgiving gaze. "Excuse me?"

"Neville is amazing with Herbology, Professor. Even you have to admit that he is better with ingredients of the plant kind than anyone else in the 7th year."

"Just...leave, Potter." Snape says wearily. "50 points from Gryffindor for melting 3 cauldrons and ruining most of the desks." He flutters his hand at the student and whirls to retreat to his desk. "And 4 detentions with Filch. Get out of my sight."

Harry scurries out the door quickly and absolutely does not think about what Snape's thundering voice did to his nerves. But he does know, that it is probably something entirely different than what Neville feels at the mercy of the Professor. His brain refuses to focus on it, though, and he races to the Gryffindor Tower as fast as possible.

He must just be frustrated, yeah. In fact, he'll ask Ron if he can borrow some magazines to fix that. After all, he's a teenager and therefore a hormonal mess. It means nothing.

Right?


	13. The Door

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #13: The Door

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 250

* * *

Harry feels he has been a very good Gryffindor, recently. He hasn't followed Snape, he hasn't booby trapped his door. In fact, he feels he's done a wonderful job with making Snape as ill-at-ease and paranoid as humanly possible.

Harry thinks this is wonderful, and that Snape deserves it. He couldn't tell you why he thinks the man deserves being driven crazy, but he believes it all the same.

Two whole weeks he leaves Snape be. The day before the students are due to leave on the train for Christmas Holidays Snape has developed a wonderful tic. Right there, on his left cheek.

Harry's heart beats excitedly in time with this tic. He refuses to dwell on it.

Harry ditches Ron with his packing, he's busy searching out socks underneath his four poster anyways, and sneaks under his invisibility cloak down to the dungeons. He hasn't used it in a while, and he admits once he hasn't seen a single student the entire trip down that he's likely just using it for the rush. The adrenaline buoys him all the way down the tower past the first floor and into the gloomy corridors where Snape's room resides. Luckily, a glance at the Marauder's map places Snape in Dumbledore's office and the Slytherin Common room seems to be nowhere nearby.

Rubbing his hands together in glee, he slips through Snape's wards, gently, and begin twirling his wand.

Let's see how long it takes Snape to get back into his rooms.

Ha.


	14. Daydreaming

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #14: Daydreaming

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 644

AUTHORS NOTE: Started out with the idea of daydreaming and I'm rather afraid I missed the mark.....hmm....

* * *

Harry Potter loves the Weasley's. He really does. But sometimes he wonders if all the lights are one in their attic. He seems to be a surrogate son, and they include him just about everything nowadays, which is great. Before school started, they had him at their house for a month and he wouldn't have given up a single day there for anything.

But Harry is now 17 years old. He is an adult. He doesn't expect them to toss him to the wolves and expect him to take care of himself right off the bat (even though the Dursley's have been doing just that for years) but he _would _prefer if maybe they consulted him on a few decisions.

For instance, whoever decided that Grimmauld place for his Christmas Hols was a good idea was definitely off their rocker and doesn't know Harry very well one single bit.

When he wants to spend the Hols with his family, and that's what the letter he sent to Molly said, he wants to spend them with _his family._

The war is over.

Voldemort is dead.

And to Harry, it's just plain wrong to shove Molly Weasley into musty and moldy basement kitchen of Grimmauld place.

Tapping his fingernails on the table next to the ratty couch he and Ron are sitting on, he stares blankly at the warped panes of the ground floor library.

Ron is currently leaning across the coffee table trouncing Hermione thoroughly at chess and Harry can practically hear the steam coming out of Hermione's ears. Not because she's losing, but because Ron is winning so matter of factly and is telling her exactly where she's going wrong.

Harry could've told him that was a wrong move.

His nose wrinkling in concentration he leans back into the greasy cushions, and then jumps forward with a cry.

"Ouch!"

Hermione jumps a little too and her knee shoves the table, rattling all of the pieces off of the chess board. Which, while the humans are distracted, scramble away from the board and across the floor with cries of "Run for it, mate!"

"What's wrong, Harry?" Ron says, laughingly.

"The couch bit me!"

Hermione covers her face with a hand and sinks back into her chair. "Harry, I'm not doing _that_ badly, am I?"

Suddenly, they hear a slurping sound and the boys jump off the couch to see the cushions munching down Ron's abandoned jumper. With horrified eyes, the teens watch the holey old thing sink into the depths, and then the couch belches, and then makes a sound like it's smacking its lips.

Ron's gulp is like a pin dropping in a deadly silent room.

"Well," he says with a small voice. "I never liked that sweater, anyways."

Harry starts laughing. It escalates until he's clutching his stomach and tears are popping out of his eyes.

His friends eye him carefully.

"Harry?" Hermione ventures.

He wipes his eyes and strides to the door.

"C'mon, guys," He turns and gestures to them with a smile. "I never wanted you all here anyways. Let's tell Mum that we wanna spend the Hols at the Burrow."

Ron whoops and races past Harry. "Race ya to the kitchen, mate!"

They all three end up pounding down the hall, and the house seems to sigh right before the portrait in the entrance hall starts shrieking.

Harry apologizes under his breath, before excitedly interrupting Molly who hugs him and immediately waves her wand to collect her kitchen things.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" She shoos them "Go get your things, then!"

Harry stomps up the stairs and pats the banister. "I'll come back, old house. Just me. The Weasley's don't belong here, though."

The wood creaks, and he smiles.

"Yeah, I'll be back."


	15. Plant

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #15: Plant

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 608

* * *

For Christmas, Harry Potter got a…plant. That's not the part that was weird. The part that was weird was that it wasn't from Neville.

But that wasn't the weirdest part. It didn't have a note, or anything. It just appeared on top of his pile of presents under the Christmas tree at the Burrow. Harry asked if everyone could do unwrapping all together downstairs this year and Molly liked that idea a lot. He guesses because then she wouldn't have to go upstairs into all of the rooms to clean out the debris.

So, it was a plant. Not from Neville. And it didn't have even Harry's name on it.

Still not the weirdest part.

The weirdest part is that Harry is the only person that seems to find something wrong with the plant.

All right, he admits that doesn't quite sound right. What Harry means, is that he's the only one that _sees it do weird things._

For instance, it ate one of the dragon skin gloves Ron got from his brother Bill the cursebreaker. It reached right behind him, picked it up with a tendril of new unfurling leaves, and stuffed it into one of the flower cones.

Then it burped. Loudly.

And still, no one saw it.

Currently, Harry is sitting there with a look of horror on his face while it slowly slurps down Ginny's Glumbumble(1) fur scarf. It's not being particularly quiet about it, either. He's positive he can see some drool dripping off of the flower petals as two vines drag the scarf out of Ginny's pile of gifts. The stalk bulges like a snake as it swallows the scarf like a noodle and Harry gulps.

"What's wrong, mate?" Ron turns to Harry, chocolate frogs clutched in his hands.

"Tell me you can see that?" Harry says faintly, pointing at his plant.

Ron shoves sweets in his mouth and says with a chocolatey grin. "Yup! It's your plant. Should prolly ask Neville what exactly it is, yeah?" He smacks Harry

"Yeah Ron." Harry watches the plant slurp down the last bit of the scarf with another burp. "Yeah, I'll do that."

The day after Christmas he plunks the thing behind the shed that Mr. Weasley uses for his Muggle things.

That evening after dinner Harry finds it next to Ron's bed attempting to munch the tassels off of a Cannon's quilt. Sighing, Harry drags the plant to his bed and barricades it next to the wall with his trunk. It doesn't eat his stuff, or him. So he figures it's safe until it moves again. When his arm brushes against a stalk, though, it bloody well _purrs_ and Harry stops dead.

"What the hell?"

Eyeing it warily he rubs a trembling finger along a leaf and the thing actually shivers.

He smiles.

"I'll pet you everyday if you only eat things I give you, plant."

He pulls back his hand to let it think a moment, but it reaches out and clasps a finger with a vine. "Ah, ah!" He smacks it lightly and it retreats a bit. "Do you promise? I'll give you socks and fuzzy things. Whatever you want, but don't eat other peoples stuff. All right?"

It bobs it's large flower and grabs his hand again, seeming to shake it. "Deal."

Harry shakes his head to himself. A plant. He's making a deal with a plant.

Who knew?

1. According to the Harry Potter Lexicon a Glumbumble is a furry bug that excretes a fluid that creates melancholy. I needed something that made fur…like a silk worm…close enough


	16. Socks

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #16: Socks

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 837

AUTHORS NOTES: I got some great themes...But obviously they aren't too terribly conducive to romance :) Don't worry, we'll see some movement on that front. Right now I'm playing with my ability to write humor (nil) and to keep everything true to life/canon. Btw, does anyone know what UST means? 0.o So what I am saying is that a. I have absolutely no idea what I am doing :) And b. I have all month to bring romance into play, and I'll be damned if I rush it. Hint: This story will be ending when Harry graduates.

* * *

Absently, Harry pets his plant as the sun rises over the Burrow. Ron is hanging half off his bed, drool dripping from his mouth, snoring like a bear.

Harry smiles.

Vaguely he wonders why he has such a dependent plant, but he thinks it cute that even as he pets it's leaves it clutches his pyjama shirt like a child would. "You hungry?" He murmurs. It reaches up and taps him on the nose and he grins. "Leggo, then. Smelly sock, or clean?" It taps his nose again and he nods, throwing himself to the floor to reach under Ron's bed.

Ron wakes with a snerk.

"Where's the fire?" He cries, sitting up and clutching his blankets. His wild-eyed look slowly fades. "Harry," He says, peering over his bed. "What're you doing down there?"

Harry inches back out with a putrid sock, pinching his nose. "Plant." He says succinctly.

Ron wrinkles his nose. "Gosh, mate. Put that back! I think you're crazy about that stupid plant, by the way. " He laughs at Harry as he hangs the sock over the plant and murmurs at it friendly-like.

He's still smiling and laughing as the plant eats the sock. "Man, that looks so funny. Just be sure to retrieve the sock later so mum doesn't see you hurting that poor plant, yeah?"

Harry smiles, a little sadly. "Yeah mate, I'll take care of that."

Scratching his belly Ron leaves the room grumbling something about the bathroom and Harry pats the plant as it belches. "I'm going downstairs, mate. Back in a few." He shrugs on a sleeping robe over his pyjamas and thuds down the narrow stairs into the kitchen.

"Hallo mum." He greet Molly, who turns, wand in hand, with a smile.

"Harry dear! You're up early! Do you need something?"

He hugs her and pulls his wand out of his pocket. "Can I help with breakfast?"

"Of course dear, you can set the table."

She turns back to the potatoes peeling over the sink and speaks over her shoulder. "You need to talk to me, Harry dear? You can tell me anything, you know."

He smiles, and swishes his wand at the plate covers. "Yeah, I know that. Mum, I wanna spend a couple nights at Grimmauld place before I have to go back to school."

She turns, surprised. "Well dear, that's all right. It'll take a bit to get everyone packed up again….and it's a little odd for you to change your mind again, isn't it?"

He laughs. "I'm sorry Molly, no, I just mean me. It felt odd having all of you guys there, because family means the burrow to me, not Grimmauld. When I asked to spend the Hols with you I wanted to spend them here!"

She smiles brightly. "Thank you dear! You're always welcome here." The potatoes start chopping themselves into a pan and start sizzling immediately. She frowns and swishes her wand again to add some butter. Nodding, she turns back to Harry. "What did you mean then, Harry?"

"Well," He turns away from the table that is setting itself to rights, the magic practically working itself. "Family and home might be here, but the house asked me to come back and…talk to it? It wants to spend time with me, as the owner of the house. And I'm afraid visitors aren't really an option right now."

"Oh!" She bustles to him, wrapping him in a large hug. "Why didn't you say so! Houses are just as important as people. Of course! You are an adult, dear. Go ahead and spend a few nights there. You want to leave tonight?"

She brushes down his front and tweaks his hair. "You remember how to floo? You'll make sure that Kreacher behaves, won't you?"

He laughs and grabs her hands to pull her into another hug. "Of course, Molly! I'll be fine." He pulls away and backs towards the stairs. "I'm gonna go get dressed. Breakfast will be ready soon?"

"Yes dear. Sure you won't take Ron with you?"

"Mum!" He calls over his shoulder as he trots up the stairs. "I'm sure!"

"You just let me know if you change your mind, Harry!"

When he re-enters Ron's room he smiles and shakes his head at his plant. "I can see that, you great trash disposal. Leave Ron alone!"

Startled, Ron turns to smile at Harry and the plant pulls slowly away from his ankle. "Whassthat?" He asks, as he pulls a jumper over his head.

"Nothin', Ron. Let's go down to breakfast. Wanna help me pack after? I'm going to Grimmauld for a few days." He nudges Ron good naturedly as they leave the room. "It'll give you alone time with Hermione."

Ron blushes scarlet all the way to his ear. "Harry!"

Harry just laughs.


	17. No Guts No Glory

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #17: No Guts No Glory

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 922

* * *

Harry's gotta give it to his house: It's got plenty of guts. He disapparates with a crack of a whip on the front doorstep of his house and finds himself arguing with the door, of all things.

"Yes, you _do_ have to let me in. I'm your owner!" He leans his forehead against the door. "I'm sorry you've been neglected since Sirius died. But didn't he neglect you too? Besides, I only came of age this summer. Dumbledore was responsible for you before then." He listens for a moment. "Yes, that's still 6 months I forgot about you." The grain of the wood of the door prickles under his fingers and forehead. "How can I make it up to you?"

The door swings open so abruptly that he falls through the door and lands in the entry way. He barely pulls his feet in before the door slams shut and locks with an ominous noise.

"No worries, house. You have me for two more nights, promise. All right?"

A gust blows through and sets his already messy hair on end.

"You better be telling the truth, half-blood." A quiet voice warns.

When Harry turns the portrait of Sirius' mother is uncovered and she's watching him with a distasteful and distrusting look on her face.

He bows shallowly after he regains his feet. "Yes, Mistress Black. This is my house. I'd like to make it home someday, so it is my duty to provide whatever it needs."

She eyes him carefully and hmphs. "I wish my traitor-son had your sense."

"Sirius is dead, my lady. He left the house to me. I will fix whatever he left to rot."

"And what the Blood-traitors removed?"

He smiles wickedly. "Kreacher kept all the important odds and ends. And quite a few things were stashed in the attic."

She smirks back. "Good boy. I might just like you yet."

His face blanks. "I have to see if I can help the house, first. Don't get your hopes up madam."

She blinks and he strides to the stairs and heads to the first floor study where the family tapestry is. The house moans and flips his hair and tells him where to go. Somewhere in the back of his mind Harry thinks that this should creep him out, but it doesn't. When he enters the study the door shuts with a quiet click behind him but he doesn't hear because he's drawn inexorably towards the tapestry on the wall where there's a new face right below the charred spot that Sirius used to be at.

His fingers trace his face gently and hopes that his picture won't be of a 17 year old for the rest of his life. The house whispers in his ear and he listens. He laughs. "I'm silly, yes. It's been here for two years then? Or just since I matured? Right, since I matured." He leans closer and places both hands on the tapestry. "Tell me what you need, house."

Like a vortex, he's pulled in.

A house is timeless. It doesn't move. It doesn't really think, either. But it does feel. It feels the feet of children running in the halls. It feels the vibrations of shouting when adults argue. It soaks up the moans of lovemaking, and protects its family with every fiber of its being. For such an old and drafty house it's surprisingly stable. He can feel every support beam and rafter from the attic to the basement. He can feel the mold trying to take over the floor in the room Sirius kept Buckbeak, and the peeling wall paper thanks to Doxies. There are horklumps in the abandoned garden which are encouraging gnomes to move in. Both of which the house informs Harry are unwelcome.

He makes a mental note to buy doxycide in bulk and ask Remus what he needs to get rid of horklumps.

There are chizpurfles infesting the attic and swarming around a missed dead nest of puffskeins under the bed in the third bedroom on the third floor.

A jarvey comes over the fence every day to eat the encroaching gnomes, which excites the house enough that Harry feels himself laugh, although he doesn't hear it over the hum of magic filling him. The gnomes brought knarls with them which are too spiky for the jarveys to chase. The house takes bristles about its garden being ruined. Harry pets the tapestry to calm it but smiles at how offended it is when its garden was already ruined…

Most of the bedrooms have extensive water damage, and books have escaped from the library and are nesting in the rafters with the spiders. Woodlice have infested the entire house, which fairly shivers with indignation. He pats it consolingly and asks if there's anything else it needs.

Potions.

He pauses, considering, and asks Grimmauld what kind of potions it needs. It fills his head with pictures and broken sentences and it take him a few minutes to get the point, but he nods anyways. "You need new perimeter protections, and repellents? And ward strengtheners?"

The house hums in his head so he withdraws his hands. "All right, that's reasonable. I hope you don't mind that I will be bringing in help for this, I'm not that great at potions you know."

It says nothing, but he understands.

"All right, now give me the grand tour, yeah?" Harry feels a warmth in his chest, and breathes deeply in contentment.

He has a house.

He has a _home._

Note: All creatures can be found in the HPLexicon….


	18. Stubborn

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #18: Stubborn

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 760

AUTHORS NOTE: Okay...So this story has kinda run away with itself, huh? But at least it's interesting...and...funny? At least everyone says so. I was just trying to make it last a whole month and not be OOC. I've been thinking...If UST means Unresolved Sexual Tension does that mean Harry is suffering from that? 0.o Theme suggestions are always welcome!

* * *

The first thing Harry notices when he enters the Great Hall for the return feat after the break is that Snape looks very very tired. His skin is pale and waxy, and droops a bit under his eyes, which look like someone blacked them.

His hair hangs in tendrils over his face and he seems to be nodding off over his soup.

Harry frowns.

Unconsciously he reaches for his fringe and pets it over his scar, which doesn't hurt at all. His eyes flick to Snape's left arm, but it is laying on the table just the same as Snape's right and nothing seems to be paining him. He just looks exhausted. McGonagall looks at him askance from the other side of Dumbledore, which catches the Headmaster's eye who does an honest double take at the Potions Master.

_He really does look like hell_, Harry thinks to himself.

Harry shakes his head and turns to his friends. "Save me a seat, yeah?"

Ron stops talking and eyes him carefully. "You feeling all right, mate?"

He grins. "Yeah. Just gotta go to the headtable is all. Be right back."

This meal is usually pretty informal, so no one looks sideways when Harry strides along the tables up to the Headmaster.

"Severus, are you all right?"

"Yes Headmaster," He sighs. "I just haven't been sleeping."

"Whyever not, dear boy?"

He groans, leaning forward and regrettably dipping some of his hair in his soup bowl. The Headmaster doesn't have even the presence of mine to chuckle, he's so worried. Harry stands at a distance and listens and watches carefully, McGonagall eyeing him warningly.

Irritated, Snape brushes his hair behind his ears and sits up to glare at Harry. "I can't get in my door, all right? It's been keeping me out all break."

Harry is very proud that he keeps his smirk and laugh to himself, and very carefully keeps his eyes away from Dumbledore's.

"Excuse me Professors, may I break in?"

"I'm sorry Potter?" Snape tries to burn holes through Harry's face so he pretends to shift nervously.

"Interrupt, I mean, Professor. I think you and I can make a trade, if you will."

"How is that, Harry?" Dumbledore steeples his fingers in the middle of his peas and Harry stifles a giggle.

"Well, I need the help of a potions master, and I believe I can help him with his warding difficulties. No promises. But I can give a whack at it."

"I'm not brewing you contraceptive potions, Potter." Snape snarls.

"Don't be uncouth, Professor." Harry chides sharply. "I need potions for my house. And Headmaster?"

"Yes Harry?"

"If you could, I'd like some help with the fidelius as well. My house is not anyone's headquarters. It is my home and I would like to ward it properly."

"Of course, Harry. I will send you a note later."

"Thank you, Headmaster." He turns back towards Snape. "Well, Professor? Would you like me to take a look at your…problem?" Harry can't help but wonder what god is on his side that he got such a welcome opening to ask for Snape's help.

Snape throws himself back in his chair and crosses his arms across his chest. "What makes you think you can do a single bloody thing, Potter?"

"Can you give me the benefit of the doubt, Professor? You don't even have to brew the potions I need. Just point me towards the books, if that's what you desire."

Snape smirks. "You couldn't brew if your life depended on it."

"Possibly, Sir. But it does. My house's protections are very important. This is not something I wish to play with."

Snape eyes him carefully. "My office. After supper."

"Yes Sir."

Inwardly Harry's feelings are clashing as he walks back to the Gryffindor table. There's a voice in his head waxing sickening poetry about Snape and his hands, and then there's the bit that's gloating over how he's pulling the wool over Snape's eyes and getting the better part of the bargain. Lastly, there's the voice screaming in his head because Harry has _no idea_ how to release the wards he placed on the Snape's rooms.

Snape's guess is as good as Harry's, and obviously he had no luck.

Harry gulps, and tries to smile at his friends as he sits between Hermione and Neville and across form Ginny who smiles at him toothily.

He's screwed.


	19. Risk

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #19: Risk

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 803

AUTHORS NOTE: Has anyone else decided that I've gone off my rocker yet? I had decided to not let Harry's little problem come into play until later...but it's come up MUCH earlier than I thought. Greeeeaaat. Shall I bring back the plant next chapter to get the focus off of this UST/Unrequitedness so that I don't hafta think about how the H-E-Double Hockey Sticks I'm supposed to get Snape to fall in love back _without_ changing POVs to show what he's thinking? 0.o Kill me now. In fact, hand me a knife and I'll do it myself. *groans* I really need to form better planning skills. Seriously. Enjoy!

* * *

It takes every ounce of Harry's concentration to stamp his nervousness down and waltz cockily down into the dungeons to Snape's office. One moment he's outside the great hall trying to keep his hands from shaking, and the next he's gulping down his fear and anticipation next to the crackling sconce beside the professor's office door.

He raises his hand and softly raps, twice.

"Enter."

Harry suspects that Snape is doing this for the drama, for the upper hand. His suspicions are confirmed when he spots Snape sitting primly behind his desk, hands folded on the table top.

"Sit."

Harry will never admit to the man that it's working.

He spreads his robes and sits on the edge of the chair, drawing on every skill he's acquired in the last months to sit proud, and unaffected. He likes to think that he's succeeding, but one can never tell from Snape's poker face.

"What is it that you need, Potter?"

Harry takes a breath. "I'm not sure, actually, Sir. I don't know anything about protection or ward potions. But I do know for sure that I need a bunch of doxycide, a potion I can just buy. But the house wants its protections and spell wards shored up."

The man twines his fingers together and Harry very carefully does _not_ look.

"I seem to be infested with various things that irk the house to no end."

Snape smirks.

"I'll encourage the jarvey because it's keeping the gnomes down and I can't be out there chucking them over the fence everyday, although the house implied I could lay some wards or a repellant for the gnomes. It's too my understanding, though, that not many things keep them out. There are knarls which are discouraging the jarvey and tearing apart the garden. The house says they need to go immediately or it will do unspeakable things."

Snape snorts softly.

"Obviously I didn't ask. The garden is also full of horklumps, which I haven't even _heard_ of, but they evidently encourage the gnomes."

When the man nods Harry _doesn't_ pause to watch the thick black hair slide against pale skin.

"Not all of the puffskein nests were flushed out, so now I have chizpurfles. And woodlice. The house wants the mold and water damage repaired and the foundations strengthened. Um…The wards strengthened, and perimeter potions." He nods to himself, "Yeah. That's it."

Snape hmms and very carefully observes the boy as if wondering what exactly is moving him to be so polite.

"Why would you trade such trivial chores for a feat that outweighs what you are asking from _me_, Mr. Potter? Do you wish for me to owe you?"

Harry rears back. "God, no." He looks to the side, a brush trailing up his cheek. "Mostly I figured you wouldn't help me unless I did something in return. So when I heard you had troubles I jumped for it."

Snape hmms again and waves his hand to encourage Harry to go on.

"Umm…And I might already know a little about your door, too."

"I believe we have a deal then, Potter. Shall we visit my quarters, then?" He says this dryly, almost jesting.

Harry cringes when the chair squeals across the stone when he stands. "Yes, lets. Will you tell me what you did to try to get in?"

Snape speaks slowly and methodically as they pace deeper into the dungeons to a place Harry is supposed to have never been. He even tries to take a few wrong turns to cement this idea in the Potion Master's head. He lists the spells he believes cast, the spells _he_ cast, and how exactly they went wrong.

"The most irritating part is that most of them did absolutely nothing."

"Do you think," Harry ponders. "That maybe there is a concealing spell to hide what effects _your_ spells have?"

In response Snape lengthens his strides and speaks more about what he tried and Harry is so hard pressed to ignore the man's fervor that he simply gives up.

It's official, Harry has a crush on Professor Severus Snape. He wishes it weren't January. He wishes that it was June and he was clambering onto the train platform to leave Hogwarts forever and never return so that he could have his own little personal epiphany _away_ from the man he is evidently head over heals in love with.

Harry is startled out of his musings at a cleared throat and a distrusting glare.

"Very well, Potter. Do your worst."

Harry roles up his sleeves, looks deep into himself, and sends his magic out. As well as a prayer to whatever deity watching.

Dear Gods let him not fuck this up.


	20. Lion's Den

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #20: Lion's Den

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 290

* * *

"Well, Professor," He stands steady in front of the foreboding man in the dim torchlit hall. "I've got your door open, will you uphold your side of the bargain?"

Harry's glad that he maneuvered himself between Snape at his quarters because the man definitely has the flighty look of sometime wishing to avoid another.

"Of course, Potter. Now if you will step aside we can discuss this at a later date…"

Harry just manages to stifle a groan. He wishes he could see the portrait of Slytherin because he's positive the musty old thing is smirking at him.

"No, Sir. We will discuss this like adults before you have the chance to wriggle out of this like the Slytherin you are so proud of being. Wouldn't you rather use your words to twist this to your advantage than slither away from a _Gryffindor_ like a coward?" He tuts. "And here I thought you were much more subtle than that."

Snape draws himself up stiffly rage evident in every single bone of his body, but Harry is no fool. He knows the Professor very well and he saw the split second of vulnerability in those dark eyes. He also saw him slip and show appreciation for _Harry's_ slithering just before he allowed his anger to drop like a mask.

But Harry is satisfied with the intrigue he saw in the man's eyes and allows him to sweep by into his quarters.

"Come along Potter, so that we can…" Harry can hear the smirk in his voice now. "Negotiate."

Harry very much dislikes the finality with which the portrait shuts behind him and hopes he can make it out of this ferocious man's den alive.


	21. The Chair

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #21: The Chair

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 618

AUTHORS NOTE: Is it just me, or has this bloody thing run away with me? Someone, please shout out if the characters are going too far off to the left or something like that...all right? I need feedback! Good, bad, indifferent, any kind! *pleads*

* * *

There it sits, in what is probably meant to be a cozy part of Snape's hearth. But he has tried his damndest for it to be the exact opposite.

Harry has to admit that he's succeeded most marvelously.

It's an ornate old thing, with heavily carved arm rests, lots of curlicues and deep patterns. Not a single bit of it is delicate or pretty, it's the epitome of manliness and Harry assumes by Snape's smirk that it's kept explicitly for unwelcome guests.

He would also hazard a guess that it was a gift of Dumbledore, and says so. It's gratifying how the Professor's smirk drops to a frown.

Harry pats the oily wood. "It's a magnificent piece, isn't it?" His smile implies that it's not, but Snape knows better than to say anything.

"Quite, Potter." He drawls, his tic jumping furiously in agitation.

Harry fights not to squirm. He's used to Snape's dark looks, but he's quite unused to such a bloody uncomfortable chair. On top of that, for being so close to the fire his seat is directly in front of an annoying and chill draft. He suspects a spell, but knows that the narrowing of his eyes to spot the charm would tip Snape off so lives with it. He's also drenched in shadow which makes his skin prickle and wonder what's behind him.

He's never been a person to want his back to a wall, but Snape's returned smug look definitely provokes him into thinking about it.

"So, you need ward potions, Potter?"

"Yes Sir. And repellents, and something to target the woodlice and mold. What can I do to strengthen the house itself?"

The man taps a slender finger against his chin in thought, gazing off into the shadows so Harry feels free to drink his fill of the man's profile. He notices that it's oddly freeing to have admitted to himself his attraction for this dour man, even if he doesn't have the balls to ever admit to it.

"I think, Mr. Potter, that we will have to visit your house so that I may access how exactly I may help. Is this permissible?"

Harry allows himself a sigh of relief and ignores Snape's smug smirk. "Yes sir, that would be perfect. Is there a weekend you have free?"

"Mr. Potter," Snape leans towards Harry and looks so deeply into his eyes that Harry loses his breath for a moment and becomes slightly dizzy. "How exactly did you…speak…with your house?"

Harry blinks.

"It spoke to _me_, Sir. I'm the heir, and it…connected with me. It asked me to come alone and we…communed I guess you can say."

"But _how,_ Potter?" He demands.

"What do I get out of divulging this information, Professor?"

He sits back, frustrated, his interest glimmering in his eyes.

"What do you want?"

Harry flicks his hand flippantly. "I don't want anything, but are you willing to offer me something? This is not something I think I should just tell anyone. These are family secrets, I reckon."

Snape huffs. "As if you have any respect for that sort of thing."

"Oh but I do," Harry breaths softly. "The question is, do you?"

"If you answer my questions about the house and your bond with it, I will accompany you this weekend and as many weekends as it takes to pinpoint the house's problems and over Easter Break I will help you _fix_ these problems."

Harry stands up so fast the chair screeches and extends his hand to Snape who takes it with a surprised look.

"Deal, Professor. That sounds perfect."

"I don't suppose I can coerce you into behaving in class…" Snape says wryly.

Harry smirks. "Not a chance, Sir."


	22. Tedium

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #22: Tedium

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 313

* * *

Searching the house with Snape has got to be the most boring thing Harry has ever had to do. Hands down. Especially since most of his searching is _without_ Snape. In fact, he ponders as he drags the back of his hand across his brow, it's been a few hours since he's seen the dour man last.

With a groan he drags himself out from underneath the large chair in the library and glances towards the door before standing. He's so stunned that he falls back on his ass with a little grunt and stares uncomprehendingly at the man leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest. For one, long, interminable moment neither of them say anything and Harry finds it very hard to breath when pinned by Snape's deep gaze. Something about his black eyes sparkles and admires Harry, and he can feel his arms prickling as though he's struck with static electricity.

Wordlessly Snape pushes off the door frame and strides forward, every movement predatory, his eyes not leaving Harry. The boy blinks and finds himself staring at black clad legs as an irritated voice says "Potter,"

He looks up to an offered hand.

"Get up off the floor, it's filthy."

Snape's hand isn't cold, or bony, but slender and soft. It has calluses, likely from stirring his potions, but is surprisingly smooth and sensitive. He doesn't hold Harry's hand for long, but fingertips press into his palm briefly before Snape steps back in a flurry.

"Come along, we need to go into the attic together. It's large enough it will take both of us."

Harry brushes off his robes before following the man. He carefully keeps his fluttering heart and ready smile to himself, but follows the Potions Master giddily, his heart in his throat.

That one moment will keep him through this entire boring day, he bets.


	23. Anxious

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #23: Anxious

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 443

AUTHORS NOTE: I'm almost there! In more ways than one...and yes, I am pushing this rather close. Luckily we really DIDN'T make any rules about being late...I'd LIKE to have this done by the end of the month *snorts* but I'm at home visiting for the month and I _really_ don't think that's going to happen. We're lucky enough that I wrote two today...I hope to write two tomorrow, wish me luck!

Btw, I still haven't planned a single thing so all these weird curveballs are blindsiding me too...lol

* * *

There's no more rooms for he and Snape to search. They've even searched the boiler room and pantry for the items that Kreacher squirreled away. They've agreed that the weekends left until Easter Hols are for Harry to do his dark artifact hunt for Walburga Black and for Snape to make up the potions Harry needs.

Harry suspects that Snape is using these potions as an excuse not to do anything else, an idea spurred by the smug look he's caught Snape giving Dumbledore every time he's been asked to do something like patrol the halls. It's amazing how much of his business Dumbledore conducts in the halls.

But even though they have a deal, they also have another deal, and Harry is strangely nervous about bringing it up. Regardless, he forces his reluctant feet down the stairs into the dripping dungeons and stops in front of Snape's office. He squints and inspects the spell lines and sighs when he learns from the pulsing magic that Snape is indeed inside.

He wishes he could've had the extra few minutes it would've given him to walk to the man's rooms.

He knocks.

"Enter."

He tamps down the urge to shiver by focusing intently on shutting the door carefully. This urge has been happening with alarming frequency, thanks to the magic Snape exudes. Harry doesn't know why, but the dark stuff has been reaching out and caressing him. He hopes it doesn't tease his magic out and about where Snape can smell it, but as a precaution he's quit following the man after dark.

Never can be too careful with an ex-spy, after all.

He clears his throat and Snape looks up quickly, not expecting a student audacious enough to try to _interrupt_ him, the great Potions Master.

"Mr. Potter," he greets.

"Professor, how would you like to meet my house this weekend?"

Stunned, the man actually drops his quill. Harry files away that reaction for later. It could be good blackmail, he's thinking.

Snape swallows a few times, then asks gruffly "Have you spoken with the Headmaster?"

Harry nods, wondering why in the world he was so nervous in the first place. "Saturday's tomorrow," He says a little inanely.

Snape nods. "Yes, I'll meet you at the gates at 10 tomorrow morning. Don't be late."

Harry steps away from the desk, relieved, and strides to the door.

"Potter," Snape calls, causing Harry to pause. "Happy Valentines day."

Flushing beat red he rushes through the door and slams it behind him, hurrying up the stairs.

Even the fact that the date was proclaimed so sardonically couldn't calm his embarrassment or racing heart.

Damn that man.


	24. Smile

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #24: Smile

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 394

AUTHORS NOTES: This is sooooo without direction . Two more days, 7 more chapters. Eeep?

* * *

Snape is waiting, robes twisting in the wind, when Harry arrives five minutes early down at the gates to Hogwarts. At least, he assumes he's still early because the black clad man says nothing, only nods and turns to apparate to Grimmauld place.

Harry stumbles onto the steps in front of his home a moment later but a hand catches his shoulder and keeps him from falling.

"Potter," Snape says quietly.

"Thank you," he replies.

He holds his robes close around him, trying to step by Snape without touching him but somehow there's not enough room on the stoop and his heavy wool cloak scratches across the back of his hand. Snape's personal scent wafts up his nose and Harry stifles a happy sigh.

Somehow, he can't bring himself to open his very own front door.

He stands, and inspects it for a moment, prodding the deep recesses of his mind for a reason for not entering.

Snape shifts from foot to foot behind him. "Potter…" He begins.

"Shush." Harry reaching blindly out, not moving his eyes from the door and demands "Gimme your hand."

The cool slim hand slips into his and he slides his fingers up and curls them around a strong wrist. "Just listen, open your mind."

He pulls the hand forward, and presses it palm out against the wood panels. Abruptly, he's yanked from his feet into a whirlwind, but he has the presence of mind to realize this is mentally. He can feel Snape there too, and the house, which greets him warmly. Snape is darkness and soft herby leaves and velvet around him. He's astounded and amazed and the house purrs its welcome and thanks at the overwhelmed man.

Just as quickly they are returned to the stoop where they both stand, breathless, and do not look at each other.

"Well, that's my house." Harry turns to Snape after giving him a moment to compose himself, a moment used well for Snape's face is now blank. "Shall we go in?"

"Yes, we shall."

Harry very carefully does not look at Snape's shaking hands, but he does wonder whether they came to be because of the power of the house, or himself.

He wishes he could ask.

But he'll forever remember the smile he felt inside his mind from the man that everyone thinks can never be reached. That smile is _his._


	25. Stare

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #25: Stare

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 209

* * *

Harry might know Snape more than most, but he will never claim to be able to guess what the hell that dour man is thinking. He seems to be thinking a lot, and has almost abandoned his mask of anger. Several students have professed confusion in the halls thanks to his lack of rage, but they are quiet mumbling considering nothing else about the man has changed.

If anything, he seems more clever and insulting than ever.

Harry catches the Potions Master studying him often. That black gaze runs up the back of his neck, prickling fine hairs, like a lovers touch. And whenever he turns to stare or glare back at the head table, or wherever Snape is, the man doesn't back down.

….Something….sparks in his eyes. A something that Harry can't put his finger on. Although he gets the feeling that if he was a teenage girl he would look away blushing and twittering in embarrassment.

Instead, he's more intrigued than ever.

What in the world is Snape seeing? What is he looking at exactly?

Steadfastly, he doesn't look back. He watches the man enough in his free time. It's enough for him to watch without being seen. It's very satisfying.

Harry keeps telling himself that.

* * *

REVIEWS!

Mede chapter 21:

How's this for feedback: I really, really, really like the thing with the house talking to Harry and wanting to be in good condition and knowing what it needs and Walburga's painting being something of an extension of it. And I like it how Harry tells Mrs. Weasley "my house wants me to spend some time in it alone" and her reaction is "of course dear houses are important" rather than "say what loony?"

And I like your Harry's personality. Sure, it might be off from canon, but who reads fanfic if they like canon? Your Harry is more fun. Unfortunately, though, I can't think of how to show Snape's changing attitude very well without leaving Harry's point of view, besides just their spending more time together now, in a non-teacher/student setting, given the housework Snape just agreed to. ...Maybe Snape messing with such integral house functions as the wards and such can give him some connection to the house, and then the house lets Harry know stuff from Snape's head he wouldn't otherwise? Heck, maybe the house decides it wants them together and starts doing stuff like shutting them in rooms together (even a bedroom coughcough). :) Anyway, I like the track you're on right now with the story. Just see where the characters go, yeah?

Also, you really ought to have way more reviews. How have all the Harry/Sev fans missed this?

_Reply: Thank you so very much for reviewing! Oddly enough I've had no problems with changing Harry...But I figure there's a little wiggle room for him maturing, yeah? I mean, after all, J.K. did the same thing in her weird epilogue...So whatcha think about how Snape is changing? Lol, you're ideas about the house make me smile. But Snape is so...scholarly I'm sure he's quite distracted with the ancient magic that Harry exposed him to. He's going to be rather blind to pretty much everything else, I'm thinking! And I dunno how this was missed, wanna spread the word? :) _

Minijo1990 chapter 21:

Fantastic story, I love this mature Harry and I just hope that the update keep comming. Go on Harry bag youself a Potions Master.

_Reply: Thank you! I like it when he's mature too, and can challenge Snape. I love Snape being dominant as much as the next person...But Harry isn't a crybaby! :) Also, 6 more chapters to go and they should be ready soon. Be sure to keep up!_

Evan le Fay chapter 21_:_

These are brilliant! Thank you so much, I hope to read more in the future. :)

_Reply: You're welcome! And thank YOU. 6 more chappies to go!_

The Wicked That Mourns Just chapter 21:

yay! -more happy penguin dance!- thank you so much! imagine my suprise and squee of happiness upon opening my email and seeing TWO updates! danke!

_Reply: Awww...How cute! I hope I can make you dance more before this is finished :)_

Evan le Fay chapter 23:

Thank you for the double update!

_Reply: You're welcome!_

Mede chapter 24:

Whee, purring house! *coos* I wants one of these houses, I really really wants one. Sigh. (Snape's smile is coo-worthy, too, I just like houses.) One thing, though, it seems like there must be a typo or a word missing at the end of this line: "He stands, and inspects it for a moment, prodding the deep recesses of his mind for a recent"-? Though it's possible I'm just tired and it will make more sense in the morning. Anyway, the story doesn't read like it's without direction, it reads like it's building up to lots of exciting tension Harry/Snape interaction! Which will be fun. *purrs* Also, good job with the present tense in the story. It works pretty well. :) Thanks for posting another chapter!

_Reply: I read that line and fixed it. It was either a typo and I lost my train of though, or I just plain old lost my train of though...You're welcome! Oh, you like the tense? I have friends that hate it, but I'm actually unpracticed in any other tense. It's odd that I've made it this far in third person, actually. Because I'm a stream of consciousness writer...One of these days I'll hafta try a different tense though! *hugs* Thanks for following!_

The Wicked That Mourns Just chapter 24:

you can do it! very lovely, i might add! thank you so much!

_Reply: YAY! Thanks :) And you're welcome too._

iloveshimmer chapter 22:

That was lovely! I'm happy that little touch has satisfied Harry (for now, at least)

By the way, reading this chapter has given me more prompt ideas (not that you need any)! They are silly ideas like Contact, Name, Glance... pick at your own risk!

_Reply: I try to use your prompts all the time! They are fun :) I did change glance around though...I'm sorry! *hugs* Thanks for helping!_

iloveshimmer chapter 24:

Cute! Weird house, but good bonding ;)

_Reply: I think the house is fun :) Too bad this is a drabble...I could reeeaaally get into it :)_

Airknitter:

_You comment on all my chapters. You're amazing, and I love you bunches. *Squeezes tightly* Keep reading and beating me over the head about finishing, yeah?_


	26. Horror

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #26: Horror

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 593

AUTHORS NOTE: Poor Harry...For such a mature young lad, he can be rather quick to jump to conclusions, I'm thinking...:)

* * *

It's a few weeks after Valentine's day. It's weeks yet until Easter Hols but Harry can't help thinking about it. His mind fixates on a happy Snape, on an interested Snape, on an intelligent man that causes his heart to flip flop. This is probably a poor time to let himself be distracted by such trivial thoughts. He's following said man, after all.

But he can't help it.

What did he mean by wishing him Happy Valentine's day? Why does he keep watching him? Why does Harry's chest seem to expand with pride when he does something to catch the older man's attention and focus?

His stomach muscles clench in remembrance of Snape stalking through Grimmauld Place examining its innate magic. The wonder on his face when his newfound link with the house showed him things he had never dreamed of. The intensity of his furrowed brows when his delicate pianist hands caressed the Black Tapestry.

The stormy glower on his face as he catches Harry sneaking.

Harry reels backwards with a gasp.

There he stands, in all his glory, magic teasing his hair and robes, wand held firmly in his strong fingers. "What are you doing?" He asks quietly.

Harry, nonplussed, stumbles backwards, unable to say a word. He has none. He grapples for the suit of armor behind him but with a creak it shoves him forward. He falls to his knees, with a crack that makes him wince, on the ancient stones and stares in horror up at his professor.

The man doesn't look angry. His eyes glint and pin him to the floor like a butterfly, but mostly they just look intense. Harry can't breathe. Snape looks triumphant.

Until he tilts his head to the side like a raven and gently sniffs the air. Then he's ferocious in his intensity, seeming to loom even higher over the frozen Harry.

"Where, might I ask, is your magic, foolish boy?"

Harry gulps. He swallows, and tries to breathe, but only ends up gulping again. So he whispers. "I hid it from you."

Suddenly, Snapes face goes blank. "Did you," he says stonily, not bothering to ask."

Wordlessly, Harry drops his wand from his sleeve into his sweaty hand an traces a few runes on the stone. Then he leans forward, placing his left hand over the marks and murmurs "Ego solvo vos."(1)

Light comes to Snapes face as Harry's magic releases over him in a wave.

"How long have you been following me?"

Harry tries to look away, but Snape's eyes hold him still. "Since…" He clears his throat. "All year."

"How many spells did you cast on me?"

Harry shakes his head "None! I cast them all on me."

Snape eyes him. "I presume that if you had hidden your magic from everyone, Dumbledore would've noticed."

Harry flushed. "He did. Which is why I blocked only the way that you…scent magic. You are quite unique in that skill, Sir."

Snape says nothing.

Harry inches backwards. "I'm sorry professor." He feels like crying, and his chest is tight with suppressed emotion. "I'm sorry, I'm…I'm going to go now."

Shoving himself up, he flees, tripping on his robes and running blindly.

He's not sure if he'll be able to look in Snape's eyes ever again. Why, he's not sure. But he's positive that the professor won't be able to look at him without disdain either for being such a lousy sneak. For being scum of the earth that respects no one's privacy.

He can't blame Snape for hating him. Not one bit.

1. Latin translator says this means "I release you"...I don't claim to know any Latin, so if it's wrong, and you know, let me know!


	27. Disappointment

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #27: Disappointment

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 256

AUTHORS NOTE: I'm so sorry! I needed a week or two to think, but now I'm finished with finals and all that so the rest of the chapters should (emphasis on this) be coming shortly :) No promises about _how_ shortly...

* * *

Harry is almost relieved when he no longer feels Snape's stare.

Emphasis on _almost._

In fact, it makes him feel rather bereft.

Snape eats at the head table without looking at him. He swoops through the halls descending on innocent children without looking at him. He strides right by him in study hall, and it's almost as though Harry isn't there at all in Potions.

If it wasn't for his almost rote insults Harry would think that he didn't exist for Snape at all.

He on the other hand is more obsessed than ever.

He crouches around the corner from Snape's office, watching the marauder's map under his invisibility cloak and listens avidly every time a student visits the Potion Master during office hours. He mostly sees younger slytherins, and occasionally a ravenclaw or upperclass slytherin, but never any gryffindors, and only once a hufflepuff.

She came tripping around the corner ten minutes later, crying. She never returned.

Harry wishes he was brave enough to catch the professor's attention. He wishes he had characteristics appealing enough to Snape that he wouldn't turn up his nose at Harry making him feel like the dirt under the man's shoe.

He wishes he wasn't a coward for leaving the ritual down and having to lurk farther behind the professor than ever so he wouldn't scent his magic. He wishes that he could admit to himself that he saw interest in Snape's eyes, and that it wasn't just derision.

But if wishes grew on trees, no one would be misfortunate.


	28. Easter

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #28: Easter

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 355

AUTHORS NOTE: Yes...I will be finishing this. Eventually? :D

Harry waits at the gates of Hogwarts, nervously twirling his wand between his fingers on the dreary and gray morning after all of the other students have left. He and Snape, Harry gulps and lets his gaze skitter to the side, had decided to leave during the actual holiday to avoid the student crush.

The stone grinding into his back and grounding him from his flying anxiousness, Harry hopes that Snape comes. He sighs. At this point, he wouldn't even mind if it was just for his house's sake, and not his.

A tendril of...something, brushes the edges of his mind so he glances up the hill at that castle and locks eyes with the form of the Potions Master striding towards him. Harry is glad there is no sunlight peering through the thick cloud cover, because that would make this cliché almost unbearable. It's bad enough that Snape's stern and steady strides and billowing robes make Harry's breath catch in his throat and his heart flutter like a 14 year old crushing girl.

Snape's impassive face advances on him so Harry pushes off of the gate post and nods companionably, his voice refusing to work. Snape nods back, so Harry whirls on the spot and steps onto the street in front of Grimmauld Place. He strides up the stairs without looking, but he can feel Snape behind him like some sort of magical buffer muffling the general world behind him. He shudders when the house's magic meets his, but he doesn't know whether it's Grimmauld affecting him, or the feel of slender fingers pressing against his back and funneling their magic through his as he opens the door and enters the house.

Easter doesn't really seem to be copping up to being much of a holiday, really, Harry thinks to himself as he tries to convince his body to move away from Snape. If he can survive this without making a total and utter fool of himself, he'll count himself lucky.

Once the door is shut, he turns to the dour professor with a grim smile and asks "So, where shall we begin?"


	29. Methodical Stupidity

Title: 30 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #29: Methodical Stupidity

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 1237

AUTHORS NOTE: I'm soooooo sorry! AirKnitter tried to convince me to finish this by my birthday in August...but it didn't happen. Total writers block. Read through this today, and there were a few plot devices that I now have no idea what I was trying to do with them...So this is my attempt to a. move the fic forward and b. disperse of a couple of them. Sorry the cleaning house thing isn't more interesting or..complete(or included). But I had a bit of a word-count limit that I already went over... LOL

* * *

Harry Potter isn't sure what's worse—Snape ignoring him, Snape watching him, or Snape acting as though there is absolutely nothing going on.

If Harry has to lay in bed one more night without any sleep, he thinks he's going to go kill someone.

He rolls over with a groan, pulling his pillow with him and hamming it over his head. "Three more days..." he mumbles."You can do it, Potter you nancy."

A vine slithers around his wrist and squeezes gently until the tension in Harry's shoulders loosen and he lets go of the pillow. It releases and slithers back, but the leaves tickle the inside of his wrist and he laughs reflexively.

"Hey!" He rolls over and tucks his hand against his chest. "That tickles!"

In response, the plant shoots out several tendrils that pin his wrists to the bed and run leaves up and down his sides.

"Nooooo!" he howls, laughing uncontrollably. "Stop it, stop it!"

He rolls as best he can while pinned and laughs, wriggling and twisting his sheets all over the place.

He's growing breathless from his shrieks but the plant doesn't abate, when suddenly the door slams open with a rush of air from the hall.

Like the Devil himself, Snape stands ominously in the door, wand extended and a mighty scowl on his face.

"Plant!" Harry cries out, fingers scrabbling at the vines. They release and he scrambles for the foot of the bed. The door is still rebounding and Snape is still opening his mouth to cast a spell at the plant when Harry launches himself at the dour man.

He hits him in the gut with his shoulder and wraps his arms around him to take him down. Twisting desperately he lands underneath Snape in the dustless hall they had scrubbed the day before with a breath threatening 'whump'. His vision goes black for a moment at the impact and he coughs at the combined trauma of having the breath knocked out of him and having a full grown man land on top of him. He hears Snape's wand clatter to a halt nearby, but focuses on breathing.

That's when he realizes that the professor is no longer on top of him.

His eyes fly open.

At first all he can see are intense, onyx eyes. They glitter in the sparse light of the upstairs hall, and Harry knows the man well enough to take a stab at what he can see in them.

Panic. Fear. Anxiety. Interest. Desire.

"Mr. Potter."

Harry swallows. "Uhm, hello professor."

"How odd," the man breathes softly, "That you are at your politest when in…extreme situations."

Harry closes his eyes. "I'm sorry professor. I didn't mean to barrel you over."

"Yes you did, Potter. Don't lie."

Harry wonders why he's murmuring and the professor is whispering so huskily. But he doesn't have to wonder at his reactions. He knows what this man does to him and silently curses the fact that all he's got on are his boxers. The hall is empty. The only portrait is downstairs. Kreacher is asleep.

They are all alone.

Harry closes his eyes, shuddering at the warm breathe puffing across his face.

"Now, Mister Potter, you will inform me as to why I was forced to leave bed by your shrieking at such an ungodly hour."

"May I stand, first, professor?"

In a mere moment, Snape is on his feet and facing away from Harry. He blinks at the sudden change, then blinks again at the view of Snape's arse in his pinstriped pajama pants.

What a shame he's wearing a shirt.

With a shake of his head he comes to himself and shoves himself to his feet, padding for his door. Picturing Hogwart's Headmaster with Professor McGonnagal does wonders for his erection and even his full body flush is receding by the time he reaches his bed.

"Professor?" He turns to beckon him from the hall, but he is instead standing extremely close to him. He falls backward onto his bed with a startled laugh and only barely keeps himself from falling onto his back. Snape only raises an eyebrow, which makes Harry feel very foolish indeed.

"My plant."

"Pardon me, Potter?"

Harry looks to said Plant and speaks again, "My plant. It decided to…tickle me."

He waits for the disbelieving reaction, or the laughter, but it doesn't come so he looks back at Snape who seems to be peering at the plant most intently.

"Curious…"

He steps around Harry and the bed and closer to the plant swaying hypnotically in its pot on its wheeled platform.

"Stop it!" Harry hisses lowly at the plant, and it stops swaying.

Snape blinks, then whirls on the young man. "Potter!"

Harry covers his eyes wearily and sighs. "It figures you would be the only one to see it, Professor."

He reaches for his plant and it winds a gentle tendril around his hand, gently caressing his palm. "This is Plant, Professor. I got him as a gift for Christmas."

The time the interest in Snape's eyes is tempered by wariness, but he crouches alongside the bed nonetheless and inspects the plant.

"No one else can see that it moves," Harry says, hoping that the Professor will have something insightful bouncing around in his head about his unique situation. "It likes to eat clothes."

Snape reaches tentatively for the plant and Harry finds himself holding his breath. It's a moment before he realizes the silence means Snape is too.

The plant croons, and something flares in the other man's eyes.

Well. That's interesting.

"Any idea who it's from?" Snape speaks lowly, as though not to frighten the plant.

Harry lifts his plant encrusted arm clear above his head and swings his legs around the mattress to face the plant and the Professor.

"Not a clue. It's not from Neville. Although I wouldn't put it past Luna, or something like that."

Snape's face darkens and the plant pauses in caressing Harry's skin.

"Haven't you thought it might be cursed?"

"Well, to be honest, at first I thought _I_ was. I mean, everyone thinks I'm barmy for thinking the plant is alive. But, you see it too, so I can rule this out."

"Are you telling me," he growls as he unconsciously caresses a trembling leaf, "That you have been operating under the assumption that you might be magically confunded or crazy for nigh on 4 months?"

Harry grins, "Well, my gut usually doesn't let me down, and I thought I'd reach a conclusion eventually!"

"You idiot!"

Snape stands, managing to appear menacing and bat-like although he's out of his robes.

"Do you really think so, Professor?"

The silence, and the magic whirling in the air is stifling. Snape's dark aura engulfs him to the point of making him feel mired down. His sparks throughout the room he has made his own and attempts to meld with the menacing man glaring down at him.

"Do you believe that I am an idiot, Professor?" Harry asks again, quietly.

But between one breath and the next, the man has strode out of the room closing the door behind him so Harry has to sit and watch his magic stream away through the cracks.

"Well," his hand shakes as he pets his plant and he tells himself that his voice doesn't waver nor do tears rise to his eyes. "I guess you do."


	30. Presumptions

Title: 31 Awkward Situations (I SERIOUSLY WROTE 30 FOR THE WHOLE STORY!)

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #30: Presumptions

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 298

* * *

"I couldn't believe that there was a whole infestation up there in the attic behind that wall!" Harry sputtered, waving his hands so wildly he was in danger of over-turning his tea. "It's bloody luck, that's what, that you did that spell and found them there. Amazing, too."

He looks up and realizes that Snape is slowly sipping his tea, but he is looking at Harry quite closely.

Harry turns scarlet.

"So I was thinking that maybe, after break, you could come back once or twice and er, help out some more? It's really been a huge help and," Harry drops his hands to the table to fidget with his fingers and stare at them. "And I really enjoyed not being alone in the house the whole time."

But when he looks up again he knows that he's mad a huge misstep of some sort. He's misinterpreted something, read into things, let his hope get in the way—something. Because Snape has gone stony—a look Harry hasn't seen all week—and he's setting his unfinished tea on the kitchen table with a clink and pushing away from the table.

"Mr. Potter," Snape says firmly. "We had a business deal—I would inspect the house before Easter, then help over Easter hols. As Easter has passed and you appear to be handling things admirably, it is time to take my leave. Do not mistake my presence for something it isn't."

Harry is so stunned that he simply sits and stares at his cooling tea as the man strides from the room, then leaves the house altogether a few minutes later.

He does not return.

"Goodbye," Harry says softly long after the door has been shut firmly.

When he returns to Hogwarts, Snape doesn't make eye-contact.

Harry doesn't either.

* * *

AUTHOR'S NOTE: ONE MORE CHAPTER TO GO! Sorry it's been so long. Haven't written in the HP fandom since this story, really, and I'm really really really sorry I pretty much abandoned it. But maybe all you followers out there will enjoy the last bit I have, yeah?

:D


	31. Stories Never End

Title: 31 Awkward Situations

Author: stupidmuse_hatesme

Prompt: 31 drabbles for the month of May. Any fandom allowed, one chapter per day (no posting ahead!), gayness required :) 100-1000 words per drabble.

Drabble #31: Stories Never End

Summary: Harry has no idea how he always gets himself into these sorts of things...

Warnings: Absolutely none. Well, yeah. maybe cursing. And possibly sexual type activities. Who knows :D

Rating: For now? PG-13 for cursing.

Length: 1,147

* * *

The train whistles.

It's amazing that Harry can hear it over all of the noise on the platform, but he can. Everyone is jostling each other, saying goodbye to professor's and the headmaster, giving last minute goodbye gifts to one another.

He doesn't quite understand why everyone does this _before_ they get on the train, rather than after, but it's been tradition since the first year he came to Hogwarts. Before that, even, he suspects.

But he's apart from the rest.

Harry Potter, the boy-who-saved-them-all stands as far from the train as he can muster without being out in the road and lets the wind buffet him. There's sounds of happiness and chatter in the air all around him—it's summer and everyone is going home—but the chill makes it seem like it's fall already.

Even though Harry knows that he won't be on this platform for the coming fall. Or for any fall at all, for that matter.

"Potter," someone says behind him.

It's not just any someone, though. It's a someone who he would know anywhere. Harry doesn't flinch, or tense, or anything like that.

He sighs.

"Hullo, Professor," he says quietly.

The professor clears his throat. "What are the boy-who-lived's plans for the summer?" he says in a way that Harry knows is supposed to be cutting, but sounds more querying than anything.

Harry shrugs. His trunk is at his feet, Hedwig's cage on top (she has already flown for home), and his cloak is wrapped tight around him. Those are things he knows. The list of things he doesn't is quite extensive.

"Continue fixing up my house, perhaps," he says.

"No job offers?"

Harry turns and smiles a weary and drawn smile. "Who would want to hire me?"

The months have gotten to him, he knows. The NEWTs were anti-climactic once he realized that no matter how well he did on them, no one would want to hire someone so famous they would always be in the papers for silly things. His magic was too powerful to do anything too simple and over-qualified him for many things, and networking was never his forte.

His dance around Snape had tired him.

He is ready to go home, putter around his house for the next year, and only accept firecalls from Hermione and Ron. He will probably visit the Burrow, as well, but he doesn't figure he would go anywhere else.

Easter had been one highly-charged hormonal moment after the next, until Harry was ready to either throw himself out the window, or throw himself at Snape. But every time he had even thought about the latter, the man had frowned in a way that told Harry he knew was the boy was thinking and highly discouraged it.

After Easter, he sort of fell apart.

Classes weren't worth it. Following Snape wasn't worth it. Looking ahead wasn't worth it. Nothing was.

The train whistle blows again, and he knows that he has precious minutes before it leaves.

"You're an idiot, Potter."

Harry can do nothing but agree to that, but says nothing.

He had spent the last few months after school studying for the NEWTs and researching archaic spells for—anything, really. He was interested in anything from trap making to bottling scents. It didn't matter—magic fascinates him. He had even created a few spells of his own. But he doesn't suppose that mattered in the long run.

"Just how blind are you?" Snape demands.

Harry stands still and watches the train begin to pull away.

He had already said goodbye to Dumbledore, who had had looked at him with a disappointed and worried glimmer in his eye—but had said nothing. Ron and Hermione had already apparated away, promising to floo him as soon as they started flat-hunting so that he could help. His classmates had said goodbye.

It is just him and Snape.

"_Harry,"_ Snape said.

And then there is a hand on his shoulder and it is turning him and the man himself is standing there. So close. So far away. Harry closes his eyes, thinking, _he's not as tall as I remember him being._

"You've grown up," Snape says at last, after the train had sped away off into the countryside. "And you're the last to notice."

The hand leaves his shoulder and touches his face. Harry shudders. He has watched these hands for so long that he had thought he had imagined clearly what they would feel like.

He hadn't.

The calluses on Snape's fingers don't catch at all. The feel warm and rough against the stubble on his chin. They feel intimate, not uncomfortable. Harry wonders if anyone has ever touched him like this, and doesn't think so.

"Brat," Snape says. Then he kisses Harry.

It's not like a fairytale. Harry's foot doesn't lift up and he doesn't hear birds singing happy songs in the distance. It doesn't feel romantic or like he's kissing his soulmate. But it is warm. Snape's lips are thinner than he had thought and out of practice with kissing, so he kisses harder than he ought to. But Harry is clutching the older man's robes in white-knuckled fists, Snape's hand is still on his face, and they are kissing.

They are kissing.

The wind ruffles his hair and suddenly Harry wants to laugh.

So he does.

He opens his eyes and stares into Snape's predictable scowl and laughs. "I'm an idiot," he agrees.

Snape blinks, but his eyes look five shades warmer and the lines on his face smooth out. "The first step to solving a problem is admitting that you have one," he points out pragmatically.

Harry laughs some more, then buries his head in Snape's robes.

"Am I to take it that my advances are not unwelcome?" Snape asks, and it just about _kills_ Harry to hear unsurety in the spy's voice.

"Not unwelcome," he mumbles into the wool fabric scratching his face. "I'd never even imagined…"

"It turns out that I'm rather attracted to idiot-savants," Snape mentions.

Harry snorts. "A savant? Me?"

Snape pulls him closer with one arm and flicks his wand at Harry's things with the other. Harry doesn't look, because he trusts Snape. It's a warm weight in his chest when he realizes this. He trusts Snape.

"Keep your friends close and your enemy's closer," Snape recites. "It's only logical to keep someone who can make up a spell strong enough to lock me out of my rooms for several weeks _and_ make up a counter-spell to remove it quite close to me indeed."

Snape swirls them about and a moment later they are on Harry's stoop and he can feel his house reaching out a greeting to both of them. The door swings open as Snape leans towards his ear and murmurs, "Very close. In my bed, in fact."

Harry has no arguments for that.

It's finished! Finis! Termine! Done! YAY! *throws confetti* Concrit is welcome, I'm well aware that I wrote most of this story when I had no idea what the hell I was doing (and I had no beta taboot) but I did my best to make the last two chapters worthwhile...Although, I totally believed my own label goof and thought I only had to hit 30 chapters so I wrote this one first, saw my mistake, then wrote #30 as a filler . Go author?

So...Enjoy!

Also, question-since I do not plan on finishing my other fics, should I label them as abandoned? I was sort of thinking about whether or not I should post my Sherlock fanfics from LJ on here, either...

SM


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